


King of New Orleans

by Hufflepuss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:33:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4818761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hufflepuss/pseuds/Hufflepuss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa moves to New Orleans from Nashville to start at Tulane. Her father has assured her that the Baratheons, AKA Joff, will take good care of her.  What Ned doesn't know is that he has put her in more danger and that her protectors last name is not Baratheon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have decided to move this fic over and continue. I don't know how frequent updates will be after I post what is already written. I have a 4 month old who is teething, which is a lot more time consuming than you would think, and 3 dachshunds who require a lot of attention. Also, I have never had a beta before but would love one.

"Silent anger for a silent man," Jory mused to the Hound on his left.

The two were standing at the back entrance of K-Paul's watching their respective wards. Sandor Clegane, called the Hound by many because of how loyally—or so people thought—he followed the Lannisters, had been Joffrey Baratheon's sworn shield since he was a baby. One might wonder why in 2012 anyone would need a constant bodyguard who wasn't a celebrity, but Southern politics had always been far more dangerous business than movie making.

The Baratheons were a bit of Southern royalty and to the drunken mayor of New Orleans, Robert Baratheon, it was Mardi Gras all year round. While it was no secret that neither Cersei or Robert Baratheon strictly enjoyed each other's company, Clegane figured there was no harm in two middle-aged, distorted souls finding pleasure elsewhere, after all  _he_  had never been one to care for vows, but in the case of Joffrey Baratheon's promised, he found himself thinking differently.

Sansa Stark deserved more than a 22 year old, little blonde, shit-head who spent his enormous monthly allowance at Rick's and Larry Flynt's Hustler club. Ironically, no one from New Orleans dared enter the French Quarter too often for fear of touristy questions and the little maggot's extra-curriculars were pretty much kept quiet. It also helped that the Creole leech, Petyr Baelish, was a long-time brown noser of the Baratheons.

To be honest though, the more Sandor Clegane thought about Sansa Stark joining Baratheon at Tulane in 3 months, the sicker he got. The red-headed beauty of Nashville who had turned down a recording contract with Virgin Records to be with the little twat was a known virgin and all around good girl. She was no match for the "Snow Prince," as some called him because of his pale hair and "little habit." If it had been her wolf-bitch sister, Arya, Sandor might have thought it was a match made in gothic Hell, but not Sansa.

So this is what had Sandor Clegane in a fierce mood as he watched alongside with Sansa's chauffeur, Jory, as the beauty sat in K-Paul's willingly dining with the beast.

"You'd be silent too if you had awoken with my hangover, buggering hell," snapped Sandor.

"Ah yes, how could I forget…The Hound not only guards like a dog but drinks like one as well. What'd you lap up last night Clegane?" Jory chuckled as he smacked Sandor on the back. A bold move for most men but Clegane had known Jory since the Bartheon-Stark announcement five years ago. And he remembered that five years ago he was Jory's exact age of 25 and had a slightly better outlook on the engagement,  _slightly_.

At the time, he wondered why in the Hell prim and proper Eddard and Catelyn Stark would marry their prized daughter to Joffrey Baratheon. Sure Eddard had been friends with Robert for years, he had  _almost_  been his brother-in-law, and there businesses did complement each other, Baratheon being the highest share-holder in Stag Petroleum and Stark owning 76% of all gas stations in the South East, but to marry your daughter off so young? Sandor just couldn't understand it. That was until the announcement.

After several months of being secretly treated at Vanderbilt, Eddard Stark was told that he had only a few years with constant treatments as he had been diagnosed with lung cancer, which was quickly metastasizing to every other part of his body. In five years Eddard Stark had gone from the picture of health to a bedridden shadow of a man. It wouldn't be long now, and he wanted to see his daughter married.

Sansa

She couldn't believe that it had only been a week since she graduated from Mordane's Academy for girls.  _And now look at me_ , she thought as she saw across from the most breath-taking boy she had ever seen: Joffrey Baratheon. Oh sure she had seen him at company functions over the years, but to have her father let her go to Tulane in order to be near him was just too much she thought.

"Sansa, how do you like  _my_ city so far?" begged Joffrey with a 5 star smile.

"It's quite charming, and I hope to find a suitable place uptown soon. Father has instructed Jory to make sure that it is safe and close to the campus," replied Sansa.

"Yes, well if you need help finding a safe place, I would love to help you"

Sansa could not believe her ears at the thought of apartment shopping with Joffrey, it sounded so, so  _domestic_ , almost like they were a real couple.

"I would love it, Joffrey, and be most grateful."

"No problem," Joffrey gleamed, and as he gleam formed into a smirk, Sansa noticed Joffrey waving someone over.

In no less than thirty second, standing on the right side of Joffrey, stood a man Sansa had unfortunately become as well acquainted with as Joffrey, though he never talked to her. Standing 6'6" in all black with his hair parted to one side, covering his massive burns which claimed the right side of his face and ear stood Sandor Clegane,  _the Hound._

Sandor

In the midst of his update on Eddard Stark, via an all too willing Jory, Sandor noticed that the twat was waving him over.

"Duty calls, Jory," Sandor said as he strode across the restaurant garnering stares from everyone, even the bus boys.

"What is it, Joff?" Sandor asked as his came upon the table, taking his place to the right of Joffrey like a good dog.

"Sandor, doesn't Sansa look lovely tonight? Just look at her, " Joff asked.

 _Buggering Hells, all seven of them_. Sandor inwardly sighed. Of course Sansa Stark looked lovely. Her auburn hair was cascading down like a waterfall just below her perfectly round breast. She looked better in person tonight than the modeling pictures Joffrey had been showing him of her for weeks. She had on a deep green romper that accentuated her perfect upper half and showed off her tight bottom. Not to mention the gold heels she wore witch showcased her long legs and perfectly matched her jewels. All of this could make a man hard, but her face, her face was her best feature. Blue eyes, Tully blue as they were called because of her lineage, high cheek bones, and a platinum smile awaited anyone who had the fortune of looking upon her face.

All Sandor could do in reply was grunt.

"See Sansa, my dog likes you!" Joff said with a serpentine smile that did not reach his eyes.

Sansa, shocked by the situation, could only offer Sandor a meek smile in reply.

"Dog, tomorrow, you will be the luckiest man in Louisiana, as  _you_  get to take Sansa apartment shopping. Being a bodyguard, you should know a thing or two about home security and all that jazz."

Silence permeated the air. Neither Sansa or Sandor knew what to say as Joffrey continued…Somewhere in the distance they both heard Joffrey say something about Sandor picking her up at 9 a.m.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Sandor**

Sandor Clegane didn't sleep a wink. How could he? It wasn't just like you could snap your fingers in New Orleans and find an apartment. Uptown wasn't filled with apartment complexes, and a Stark wouldn't live in one anyways. So since 3 a.m. this morning, which was the time he got home after escorting a drunken/high Joffrey Baratheon out of Rick's, Sandor Clegane had been researching apartments in Uptown for Sansa Stark with little luck. By 8 a.m. Sandor was desperate and waiting outside a real-estate agency on Magazine St.

A short little bald man pulled up in a Jaguar and proceeded to unlock the back door when Sandor grabbed him.

"Are you Varys?" Sandor spat out.

"Why good morning to you, Mr. Clegane," the little dough figure replied almost giddily.

Sandor was too shocked for words.  _How in the Hell does this little fat fuck know who I am?_

"Not to fear, Sandor, I figure that you're helping the newest addition to the Baratheon-Lannister empire look for a place. I've already got a folder for you. Stay here, and I will  _fetch_  it for you."

As the man, who he now knew must be Varys because of his reputation of having a web in every window, walked inside Sandor stood shocked into silence. After all, there weren't that many have burned giants running around the city, but to know  _exactly what he was here for_ , now that took talent that Sandor didn't even want to fathom. He would have to keep an eye on Varys.

Varys returned with no less than 15 addresses for Sansa, all of which were in great locations, though astronomically pricey. But what's money to a Stark? Varys had also told him that he was holding the properties for 3 days to let Sansa decide and would be in touch as he strode back into the office. Sandor thought to tell him that he didn't give him his contact information, but thought better of it when he remembered who he was dealing with.  _He could probably tell me the size of my own dick_ , Sandor inwardly reflected as he got in his car and headed to pick up Sansa.

**Sansa**

Sansa was beyond thrilled that the clock in the bathroom of the Monteleone had an iPod dock as she jumped in the shower to get ready for the day. In an hour she would be looking for a new _home_  of her very own to compliment her new  _life_  with Joffrey—even the Hound couldn't ruin today for her!

And that is exactly what Sansa was repeating to herself as she put on her white skinny jeans, gold Tory Burch flats, and her favorite, purple Michael Star tee. However, by the time she had knocked on Jory's adjoining door to tell him "bye," and made it into the lobby, she wasn't sure that even her thoughts of Joffrey—her Snow Prince the young concierge had called him—could safeguard her from the hound.

The Monteleone's lobby was ornate and beautiful, just like the city itself. Sansa had just about convinced herself to step into the Carousel Bar for a mimosa when a large hand landed on her shoulder, stirring her from her thoughts.

"Ready?" was all that Sandor Clegane managed to get out before taking her arm and pulling her toward the door.

As they stepped onto the street Sansa's olfactory senses were assaulted by a mysterious smell and the sight of a jet black Ford Bronco, which Sandor ushered her to. Sansa for a minute thought that she was going to have to jump to get in the SUV, which she noticed had a classic car tag, but realized that her legs were just long enough to get her in the vehicle. Finally, after having spent all of junior high being teased about her being a  _head on legs,_ they were paying off.

When Sansa settled herself into the car, something unexpected happen, right before putting the car in drive, Sandor reached across her. At first she was so shocked that she must have looked like a deer in head lights, but when she realized he was going for the seatbelt at her shoulder, she let herself relax. Sansa, who had always been keen on smell, noticed that Sandor Clegane had the most masculine scent she had ever come in contact with, it was instantly calming and made her feel both safe and…. _aroused?_   _No, that can't be right_ , she thought,  _he is ugly_.  _No, its just that he is so masculine_ , she yelled in her head before looking out the window like she knew where she was going.

**Sandor**

_Jesus Christ, I was just grabbing her seatbelt. I wasn't going to slit her pretty, little throat_ , Sandor said to himself as he gripped the steering wheel. They had just pulled out of the French Quarter into the Central Business District and would in a few minutes be at their first of many apartments, but Sandor Clegane was going to be damned if he was going to spend the whole day in silence when he was finally alone with Sansa Stark. He had heard  _his little bird_ , as he thought of her, chirp prettily enough for Joffrey and everyone else, she could chirp for him too.

"What is it girl? Heard they called me the Hound? Afraid I'll  _bite?_ " Sandor barked at her from across the console, snapping Sansa out of her silent revelry.

"Uh..no, I am just looking at how quickly the city changes from street to street," Sansa all but stuttered. "I got in at dusk yesterday and wasn't able to really get a look."

This was a sound enough reason, Sandor murmured to himself. Maybe he should go easy on her. Hell he grew up here and new just about everything one could know about New Orleans. As his lips began to open to tell her more about the part of the city they were in, Sandor realized what he was about to do. Suddenly, he was angry again, his normal state, thinking  _I am not her fucking tour guide, if she wants to know something she can ask like anyone else_.

"It really is quite a beautiful city," Sansa began as they crossed under 90 into the Garden District on St. Charles.

Sandor's first reaction was to grunt, but being since she was being nice, and it was a rarity that people talked to him, much less were nice to him, Sandor felt he could be decent back.

"It is, Little Bird," he spat out before he could think. At the mentioning of his pet name for Sansa he chanced a glance at her to see her staring back at him. This being even more unsettling than his revelation, he stammered on, "Stranger and I know these parts well."  _SHIT SHIT SHIT, am I not thinking today?_

"Stranger?" Sansa replied.

"Uhh..yeah, my Bronco. I call it Stranger," Sandor said gruffly, daring her to make a snide comment, waiting for it so he could lash out, but it never came.

"Huh," Sansa Stark let out of her mouth, "I thought I was the only one who had one of those."

"One of what?" Sandor asked his interest piqued.

"A name for my car, at home I have a white Lincoln MKX that I call Lady," Sansa said to Sandor, flashing him one of those smiles she was so wanted for, which made him do something that he rarely ever did…smile back.

Sandor Clegane had very little reason to or very experience in smiling, but how many people did with half of a face? Smirking sure, he could do that just fine. And frowning, yeah, no problem there. But smiling?  _Sansa fucking Stark had made him smile,_ he thought which was quickly followed by another thought:  _this is NOT good._

**Sansa**

It was a little past 1 p.m., she had checked ten apartments off her list, two of which Sandor wouldn't even go in because he  _didn't like the look of them_ , and Sansa Stark was tired, hungry, and a little…frazzled. Sure, she had really liked one or two of the apartments, but that was before Sandor pointed out the  _obvious_ , he claimed, faults with each of them.

_There's three different doors to enter this apartment, do you want to get raped?...No alarm system, now way in fucking hell are you living here… There's only one fire alarm in this whole damned building…The shit hole I live in is safer than this, and I am a fucking bodyguard._

Sansa Stark had just about had it as they sat down to eat. They had settled at a place called the Camellia Grille on Carrollton Ave, which Sandor had said was  _decent_. After having spent the whole morning with him, Sansa figured  _decent_  to Sandor Cleganetranslated into  _delicious_  for a normal person. And Sansa was not disappointed when her food arrived.

"To your liking, Little Bird?" Sandor asked between bites of his burger.

"It's quite delicious, I like it very much. Thank you for bringing me here and helping me today," Sansa replied.

"Just doing what I am told to do, it's what they pay me for," Sandor said, then added with a little hint of curiosity and malice, "besides what don't you like, Little Bird?"

At the last part of his statement, Sansa bristled. She put down her last fry that she was about to devour, instead gripped the napkin in her lap  _tightly_.  _How dare he? How dare he go from hot to cold so fast…don't they make medicine for that?_ Sansa had been facing this type of prejudice her whole life. Yes, she was attractive. Yes, she was from a privileged family. And yes, she had an agreeable personality. But she WAS NOT without opinions. She had plenty of them. And furthermore, she had a 4.0 from one of the hardest all-girls schools in the country and an academic scholarship to Tulane, an excellent academic institution. Truth be told, her parents weren't paying  _a dime_  for her school, and she was about a millisecond away from telling Sandor that. But no, that would only provoke him further. So Sansa, took a sip of her water and looked into the fierce grey eyes of Sandor Clegane, the most feared man in New Orleans, Jory had told her.

"Liars, Cheats, and mosquitoes," she said coolly, locking eyes with Sandor.

"Excuse me?" He all but spat into his Abita AndyGator, shocked by her reply.

"You," Sansa said as she smiled sweetly at him, "implied that I liked everything, and I am telling you what I don't like. I don't like liars and cheats, because the Tully house words include honor, and liars and cheats are  _not_  honorable. And I don't like mosquitoes, because their bites itch, and they take without giving."

Sansa noticed during her little speech that Sandor had a softened, amusement look in his eyes at the first two points, which faded when shot explained her third.

"Well then," Sandor said matching her gaze, "I hope you can keep your wits about you in regards to the first two, but know this, Little Bird, everyone takes in New Orleans, and people rarely give."

And with that, Sansa watched as Sandor paid the check and motioned for her to leave.

**Sandor**

_She has no idea. She really has no fucking idea. How the Hell could Eddard Stark do this to his daughter? She doesn't want to be around liars and cheats? That's synonymous with Lannisters and Baratheons. Fuck Eddard Stark_ , Sandor kept saying to himself, as they went into the remaining five apartments. While these apartments were significantly better than the mornings, his mood was significantly worse. So much so that he had barely said a word since the restaurant.

The fifteenth and final apartment was an old 3 story Victorian on the edge of Audubon Park. It was light blue on the outside and had once been a large home but had since been converted into two upscale townhouses. This particular side had two bedrooms, two baths, a large dining area, a den, living room, utility room downstairs, and a fully furnished Viking kitchen. As Sandor walked around, giving the place a thorough inspection, he decided that this was good enough for Sansa Stark, if anything ever could be. She had showed him a different side to her at lunch, not only was she brutally beautiful, but she was also brutally honest when times called for it, which he respected.  _Much like myself_. But Sandor knew that honesty with Joff would only get her a black eye if not worse. Sandor had given plenty of those on Joff's behalf, but he knew he would  _never_  touch Sansa Stark.

In fact, as he watched Sansa walk around in what he guessed would be her new home from the smile on her face, Sandor was struck with a queer emotion, he not only was going to protect Sansa Stark because of her affiliation with Joff, but he  _wanted to protect Sansa Stark, even from Joffrey_. And this is the emotion that Sandor struggled with all the way back to the French Quarter and well after he dropped Sansa off to pick up his usual duties of guarding Joffrey.

Sansa would be dining that night with Cersei and Marcella at the Baratheon home, so he wouldn't be seeing her until tomorrow evening when she would be going with Joffrey to some charity gala. But she was not leaving his mind anytime soon, Sandor knew. And as he crawled in his bed at 1 a.m., an early night by Joff's standards, he knew something else. He had three months with Sansa Stark before it was too late, before she couldn't start her freshman year somewhere else, away from Joff. And Sandor Clegane new that was what he wanted.

Sandor Clegane, who had never been anyone's savior, was going to save Sansa Stark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sansa**

Although she had decided since the first day of her landing in New Orleans that she and Cersei Lannister would never be "bosom buddies," Sansa had to admit that the woman had style. Since her father's closing via phone on her new townhouse at 10 a.m. this morning, Cersei Lannister had helped Sansa lavishly outfit her home with a visit to only three stores in four hours time, including a lunch break. Although Sansa liked to believe that Cersei was doing her a kindness, she knew deep down that a Lannister enjoyed spending money more than anything. Eddard Stark had seen to it that the utilities were turned on and that the furniture would be moved in this evening and that his little girl could stay in her townhouse tonight. It was with this new found since of permanence in New Orleans that Sansa at 5 p.m. began to prepare for Stag Petroleum's annual charity gala.

Sansa had hardly seen Joff since the dinner the other night, she thought as she began to apply her makeup.  _Will it be like this when we start school? Surely he will make time for me if we are to be together._  She had always been told that she was a pretty girl, but if Joffrey thought so, he surely wasn't making that clear to her.  _Tonight will be different. I will make him notice me_. That was Sansa's mantra as she put down her makeup brush and strode over to the closet. She delicately pulled out the powder blue Valentino, cocktail dress that her mother had bought for her earlier this spring. It was a beautiful dress and Sansa knew that she looked beautiful in it, but while she thought this she felt herself putting the dress back down and her eyes wandering to a black hang up bag in the back of her closet. As she reached for the bag Sandor Clegane's words were resonating in the back of her head.  _Everyone takes in New Orleans, and people rarely give_. If she wanted Joffrey, she was going to have to take him. Her powder blue dresses and sweet smiles from Nashville weren't going to make him notice her. Sansa decided then and there that she was done being invisible to Joffrey. She would make him notice her, after all, wolves were hard to miss in Louisiana.

**Sandor**

_I am getting too damn old for this shit._  Sandor said to himself as he pulled on his black suit jacket and adjusted his grey tie.  _It's bad enough I have to follow the prick to every whore house in the city, now they're making me wear a suit._  The suit bag had arrived for Sandor early today, with a note from Joff stating that his presence would be required at the gala. Usually Sandor only picked Joff up when he go too bored or too drunk to function around the Baratheon's social circle. But not tonight.  _At least I will get to see my little bird._  He thought before he remembered that she wasn't  _his_ little bird, she was Joffrey's.  _And the dumbass doesn't even want her. He's out chasing whores. What the hell is wrong with him?_

But Sandor knew, Sansa Stark was too sweet for Joffrey, with her perfectly lady like ways, and that was not what Joff wanted. Everyone from the wrong side of town knew Joffrey for his ways more than his wealth. It was no secret to Petyr Baelish that Joffrey liked to tie up his women and have his way with them, and if they didn't obey, they would pay for it with their flesh. Sandor had taken many a girl to the ER because of Joffrey's  _interests_.  _Its better this way, at least as long as she remains such a sweet little thing Joffrey won't notice her_. Sandor knew that going unnoticed was not something that Sansa Stark wasn't used to, but he prayed that she continued this way. And with that final thought, Sandor got in his bronco and headed to the convention center.

**Robert**

Robert Baratheon might have been a drunk after 5 p.m., but thank God he wasn't a blind drunk because he wouldn't be able to appreciate the site in front of him. Striding in the room was one of the most gorgeous women he had seen in a long time.  _Atleast since her_ , he thought. She was a little young for his tastes, probably around Joff's age, but as long as she was 18, it had never stopped him before. She was wearing a tri-colored—black, white and grey to be exact—cocktail dress that stopped a few inches above her knees. He would later remember Cersei mumbling about the dress being a Herve Leger, but right now he was focused on the woman in it not the designer. The dress was form fitting hugging her behind and curving downward to where here full breasts were meeting.  _Nice figure on that one, very fuckable, indeed_. Her perfectly pale skin was flawless and her black three inch heels put her right at his height.  _And gods be damned, she is walking straight toward me_.

But it was as she got closer that Robert, in his drunkenness began to feel unease about the situation. She was too perfect. He was too corrupt a man to be receiving this vision. True, at one point in his life he would have thought he deserved a beautiful woman like the one walking his way. But not anymore.  _That woman is dead, and I am stuck with Cersei fucking Lannister and three kids I'd rather throw money at than attention_. Robert was almost twitching when he noticed that the girl was a mere ten feet from him and closing. Her hair,  _auburn in color_ , he noticed was pulled back from her head in a sleek do that ended in a perfect pony tail, and before he knew it she was right in front of him staring him in the eyes.  _Blue eyes….Tully blue_. When he realized what he had been doing the few minutes previous to this moment, he felt sick, but now was not the time for sickness.

"Good evening, Mr. Baratheon," the woman said with the sweetest smile he had ever seen."This is a beautiful event."

He didn't know where he summoned the courage from, but he somehow found it inside himself to speak through his self-loathing.

"Thank you, Sansa."

**Sansa**

_He almost seems sober tonight_ , Sansa decided walking away from Robert Baratheon.  _He and Joffrey really look nothing alike_ , she mused further as she went to get some champagne from the bar. She was going to need all the courage she could muster to go through with operation "Get Joffrey's Attention." The dress was only the first step, but it was working. Every man, woman, and child had taken notice of her when she walked in the room. Jory had said they would when he dropped her off.

Sansa wished Jory had been able to come. She did not like being a lone wolf, but knew that when he told her that Ned Stark needed him to come back, it must be important.  _You're being foolish,_ she told herself. _You're going to be alone any way when school starts, a few days without Jory will seem like a joke to you come August_. Although hesitant about being in New Orleans without her chauffeur/protector, Sansa was looking forward to her debut in New Orleans society and the first night in her home. She had already drawn from the murmurs going around the room that people were starting to figure out who she was.

As she scanned the crowd, again being reassured that she had indeed made an impression on the crowd, she noticed that the one person she was trying to impress wasn't there.  _Where is Joffrey? It's almost 6:30, and the gala started at 6._  Sansa tried not to let this worry her as she grabbed another glass of champagne, raising it to Cersei who had caught her eye from across the room. Cersei's returning gesture and smile did not scream sincerity, and when Sansa looked in her eyes she could have sworn that for a minute she was a flash of jealousy.

But Sansa wasn't here to make an old woman jealous, and was moving on to stage two of her plans. She had remembered earlier in the day when talking to little Tommen that he was upset he couldn't go tonight because Better Than Ezra was going to play. She tried to convince the 12 year old that he wasn't really missing anything, but he was adamant that Better Than Ezra was his favorite New Orleans band. To let his anger be known, he had promptly turned away from Sansa, stormed in his room, and locked the door. Sansa spotted a group of young guys in jeans and blazers and figured that this must be the band. Without any hesitation, she approached one of the guys carrying a guitar case. She ended up speaking with him for a few minutes longer than anticipated as he spent the first couple of moments just staring at her, but by the end of the conversation she knew that she wouldn't have any trouble executing the second part of her plan.

Completely satisfied with how the night was going, Sansa turned around to see that things were truly looking up for her, as Joffrey, who had just entered was staring at her across the room.

**Sandor**

The first jab he ignored, the second agitated him enough to look at the source of his annoyance.

"Well, well, well, look who has come out to play," Joffrey said to Sandor as he elbowed him again in the ribs. But Joffrey wasn't looking at Sandor, he was looking across the room.  _Great_ , Sandor sighed to himself,  _lets look and see which trampy daughter of the New Orleans elite Joffrey is going to fuck tonight_. When Sandor found the piece of eye candy Joffrey was looking at he nearly shat himself. It was Sansa Stark.

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The little bird is supposed to be in some silly colored dress that makes her look like the picture of innocence, not a goddamn auburn haired sex Barbie._

Before he had time to regain his composure, Joffrey was already across the room embracing Sansa in an all too touchy hug and leading her towards the bar. Sandor, who was in desperate need of a drink himself, followed Joffrey.

"Sandor," Joffrey crooned, "you are familiar with my girl, Sansa."

_Huh…your girl? Twenty minutes ago in the car you were pretty damn upset that your mother had told you had to spend time with Sansa tonight._

All seething Sandor could do at this point was grunt his acknowledgement.

"Well,  _Dog_ , I'd like to thank you, Sansa has just informed me that she bought one of the homes you showed her and will be spending her first night there tonight… _alone."_

Sandor didn't think he had heard a scarier sentence ever uttered from the mouth of the little sadistic son-of-a-bitch.

"Alone," Sandor spat in the general direction of Sansa. He was now staring at the bar with an angry look in his face and an all too familiar tightness growing in his pants at the sight of Sansa Stark. "Isn't that what that smuck Jory is for? To make sure that you are not  _alone_  in this city?"

"Well," Sansa started to answer him, forcing Sandor to finally meet her eyes. "Father has called Jory back until Sunday, he needs him for something. And anyway, I should get used to staying alone."

Sansa Stark seemed to have grown a pair since he dropped her off from their little house hunting excursion, Sandor noticed.  _I hope the little bird has grown some claws as well, by the look in Joffrey's eyes, she is going to need them tonight._

Joffrey took that exact moment to spit another one of his false gallantries at Sansa, "You? Alone tonight? I don't think so," Joffrey said in a sugary sweet voice that made Sandor want to throw up, while he watched Joffrey take Sansa's free hand and kiss her palm. "I am sure that we can work something out tonight…between the two of us."

Sandor Clegane was going to be sick.  _The little bird, alone with Joffrey for a whole night, over my dead body,_ was all he could think as the night progressed. It was 9 p.m., and they only had to suffer another hour here before he would have to deliver Sansa and Joffrey back to Sansa's new townhome.  _If only I could get shit-faced to numb the pain and didn't have to drive the sorry Snow Prince's ass around_. But he couldn't. So Sandor Clegane sat there and watched his master, like a good dog, twirl Sansa Stark around the dance floor.  _Fucking prick should have been an actor, looking so happy out there with her. He's just going to use her like one of his strippers_. Sandor then noticed that the music had changed and Better Than Ezra was playing a slow song. With the change in music, Joffrey also decided to change his hand placement letting his right hand rub circles on the top of Sansa's ass.

_One, two, three breathe…One two three, breathe…_

Sandor saw Joffrey's hands move backup as Sansa Stark froze. She might have looked like she was ready for a good fuck in that dress, but Sandor knew the truth, Sansa would NEVER be ready for a night with Joffrey Baratheon. And tonight would not be that night he decided as he stormed off from his creeping post in the corner to find Cersei Baratheon.

**Sansa**

Her plan was working perfectly, Sansa thought as Joffrey and she danced to Better Than Ezra's last song. She had come here to get Joffrey's attention, and she had held it all night. Although, it hadn't been as smooth as she would like. For one thing, now that she had Joffrey's eyes on her, she noticed that Joffrey's hands were on her everywhere too. During dinner she had to remove his hand from her thigh when she noticed that it was creeping over her fabric toward the V in her legs. Sansa had never been touched  _there_  before and a dinner table at a charity gala was not where she wanted her first experience  _there_  to be. Joffrey had almost looked angry when she did this, but his smile was quickly plastered back on his face.  _Joff likes the chase she thought_. The thought should have comforted her and would have if during the two hours since Joffrey hadn't looked at her like she was prey.  _I really am a little bird, and he really is part lion_.

This is what she wanted thought wasn't it…Joffrey's attention? And now he knew that she would be alone at her house tonight. While Sansa was secretly proud that Joffrey had finally noticed her beauty, she wanted him to love her and not lust for her. But she still had one trick up her sleeve, to ensure this.  _Maybe I can make him love me._

As the song started to dwindle down, Sansa politely broke the dance with Joffrey and made her way toward the stage. She felt a familiar glare coming from her right and wasn't shocked to see that Sandor Clegane was staring at her as he spoke to Cersei Lannister. Aftet all, he had been staring at her all night.  _I'm not stupid, and one day he will realize that_. It's hard NOT to notice when Sandor Clegane is staring at you like he wants to rip your head off. But Sansa didn't understand. By the end of their day together, things were almost comfortable between them. She had begun not to notice his scars but the other aspects of his face as well, and truth be told, the unburned side was kinda pleasant. Sandor Clegane wouldn't have been handsome even if his face was whole, but he would have been striking, with his strong features, black hair, and grey eyes. Not to mention his body. Everything about his body screamed  _I'm a man_ , which made Sansa remember the way her body had reacted to his fastening her seatbelt. Sansa shook her head as she began to climb the stairs to the stage. She couldn't be distracted now.

"Thank you, thank you for coming out tonight and supporting our city," the lead singer was saying, as he noticed Sansa's presence. "We've had a pleasure performing for you tonight, and I am proud to tell you that our last song tonight will be performed by our newest resident of the city, Miss Sansa Stark, formerly of Nashville, Tennessee."

With this announcement Sansa began to take her place on stage. The bassist was pulling a stool to the middle of the stage and adjusting the microphone for her as she took the Gibson acoustic from the lead singer.

"Good luck," he whispered to her as he ushered the rest of the band off stage.

Sansa took a deep breath and cleared her throat before she began. All night, in the back of her head, she had been contemplating what to sing. She had thought about "Cry Me a River" or "I'd Rather Go Blind," which would fit right in with soul of New Orleans. It had even occurred to her to take a stab at one of Norah Jones sensual songs, but she was a Stark from Nashville and knew that only a country classic could convey her true talent. And with this realization, she strummed her first note.

**Sandor**

Sandor couldn't believe his eyes. It was bad enough for him to watch men look at Sansa all night, but at least propriety kept them from openly staring the whole evening. Now, as she sat on stage with a guitar in her hand strumming a tune he didn't yet recognize, the males in the crowd had no reason not to take in her full beauty. And Sansa Stark was beautiful. She was beautiful because of her voice, which he had heard about and was about to hear in person. She was beautiful because of her physical attributes. But most importantly, she was beautiful because of her goodness, and he prayed that his little chat with Cersei would allow her to keep that a little bit longer.

The chat had gone well. Cersei was not expecting Sandor Clegane, who could barely stand to look at her, approach him about her son. Cersei was a bitch, but she at least knew what her son was capable of, and because of this, she had agreed with Sandor that it was NOT a good idea for Sansa Stark to be alone in a townhouse with her son. Sandor knew that Joffrey was going to blow a gasket, which would probably cause some poor prostitute to get beaten within an inch of her life, but Sandor didn't care. People died every day, and truth be told, he had killed a few, but he would not let Sansa Stark be one of them. Knowing this, Sandor was able to momentarily turn off his anger and listen to Sansa as she began to sing.

_Crazy, I'm crazy for feeling so lonely_

_I'm crazy, crazy for feeling so blue_

_I knew you'd love me as long as you wanted_

_And then someday you'd leave me for somebody new_

_Worry, why do I let myself worry?_

_Wond'ring what in the world did I do?_

_Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you_

_I'm crazy for trying and crazy for crying_

_And I'm crazy for loving you_

_Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you_

_I'm crazy for trying and crazy for crying_

_And I'm crazy for loving you._

Sandor didn't know a lot about country music but he knew this particular song. It was one that his sister had loved to sing growing up, and had never quite mastered. He used to tease her and she would laugh simply saying, "Patsy Cline is hard to sing, Sandor." Sandor had never doubted this statement, but he knew one thing. Sansa Stark could sing Patsy Cline, and she was damn good at it. He also knew that he wasn't the only one who noticed.

The room erupted into applause as Sansa walked off the stage. Sandor even noticed that all of the Barathoen's, Robert, Cersei, and Joffrey, were all stunned into speechlessness, something that never happened. Even Sandor, who prided himself on his control over his emotions, felt momentarily weak. Sansa Stark not only looked like she was made in heaven, she sounded like it too. Before he knew what was going on, he was walking toward his little bird.

Sansa saw him walking her way and stopped. Sandor was just about to tell her how beautiful she sounded when Joffrey Baratheon nudged him out of the way, took Sansa in his arms, and began to kiss her. Sandor would have called It a passionate kiss if he did not know Joffrey, but he did, and this kiss bordered on violent. Sansa must have sensed this too because she quickly pulled away flustered. By the time Cersei and Robert made their way over, Sansa Stark's, face was almost the color of her hair, and Joffrey had a death grip on her hand.

"Father, Mother," Joffrey said turning to his parents," Isn't my girl's voice is beautiful as she?" Joffrey said to his parents, all the while staring at Sansa's slightly heaving chest.

"Sansa," Robert began, not slurring half as badly as he usually did at this point in the night, "thank you for honoring us with a song. Ned had told me you could sing, but I didn't quite believe how well until just now."

"Yes," Cersei began. "Your father has always been modest about your talent." The contempt in Cersei's voice when speaking of Eddard Stark didn't go unnoticed by Sandor.  _Bitch can't even say his name, she hates him so damn much_

"Thank you," said Sansa. "You have all been so kind to me, and I wanted a chance to express my gratitude, especially to you, Mrs. Baratheon, for helping me with my house."

Sandor knew where this was going and just sat there dumfounded watching the scene unfold. The Baratheons hadn't acknowledged his presence, but they had never made a habit of acknowledging people unless there was a reason, usually something they wanted.

"Yes, speaking of your house, Sansa," Joffrey said as he turned toward his parents, "I think it's time we called it a night and headed…"

Before he could get the words out of his mouth, Cersei gave Robert a knowing look, and Robert quickly stopped Joffrey's train of thought.

"I don't think so, Joff," started Robert. "While its unusually gallant of you to want to make sure Sansa isn't alone,  _which I am sure that's all you would be doing_ , I don't think my best friend in the world, Ned Stark, would want his little girl and you to be shacking up so quickly."

Sandor was even a little surprised at Robert's crass but accurate assessment of the situation as he watched Sansa Stark's face grow redder from embarrassment and Joffrey's heat up with anger.

"Father, I don't think your best friend _, Sansa's father_ ," Joffrey said emphasizing the father bit. "would want his  _grown daughter,_ staying in her house alone with no one to protect her. Jory has gone back to Nashville, which I am sure you know."

"No, Joff, I suppose you're right," Robert Baratheon conceded. "Ned wouldn't want Sansa alone in New Orleans before she is comfortable."

Joffrey's eyes grew wide with triumph, while his mother looked perplexed.

"That is why," Robert started, having giving his son a moment to revel in his false win before crushing his victory, "from now unitl Jory returns on Sunday, Meryn will be following you around and  _your Hound_  will be staying with Sansa."

Robert Baratheon immediately started laughing and walking away before Sandor could digest what he had just heard. He was still digesting the matter and had not moved when an angry Joffrey stormed off toward the door with Meryn stalking from the shadows in his wake. He had almost wrapped his head around his new duty as Cersei Baratheon downed her second glass of champagne from the bar in five minutes, and he finally understood what his new situation meant when he felt a small hand on his shoulder. Sandor turned to see that it was his little bird's.

"Well," she said with and indiscernible look on her face as he turned toward her.  _At least she's not crying_. "it looks like its time to go, and I still need to go and collect my things from the hotel."

Sandor nodded in agreement as he followed her outside.


	4. Chapter 4

Sandor

Sandor didn't have to ask Sansa Stark if she was nervous about spending the next four nights in his company, it was Wednesday night and Jory wouldn't be back until Sunday, he knew she was nervous. It had been five minutes and she was still bumbling around with the keys to the front door. The act mixed with Sandor's own nervousness about being alone in the house with her had him on edge.

"Buggering hell, Little Bird. It's not a fucking jigsaw puzzle, its a goddamned door," he said to Sansa, with more venom than he would have liked. "Give me those."

Sandor angrily reached in for the keys with his left hand. Sansa, at the same time, turned to hand them over in defeat causing Sandor's left hand to unceremoniously land atop her right hip and her chest to collide with his.

"Ouch"

"Seven hells, girl, can't you watch where you're going?" is what came out of Sandor's mouth as he brought his right hand around to the small of her back to steady her, but it was not one of the seven hells that entered his mind. Frozen with fear, he was able to hold Sansa Stark in his arms for a few seconds, just long enough to realize who he'd be sharing a roof with for the next few nights.

When she had gathered her things at the Monteleone, Sansa had promptly changed into a baggy Tennessee Titans shirt and Nike running shorts with flip flops. It was the first time Sandor had seen her in something that he could pronounce. And while her casual attire hid what he'd been staring at earlier, having her this close reminded him of what he was missing. Sansa, by the feel of it, had not put a bra on when she changed and now her perfectly round, perky breast were slammed into his abdomen. The placement of his right arm allowed Sandor to feel Sansa's tight back muscles and note that the curvy ass was definitely not exaggerated by her dress. Deep breath, let her go before she can feel your excitement.

"I'm sorry," Sansa said as she looked up at Sandor, her anxiety obviously only intensified by the proximity. "I've never used these keys before…and…well…um…It's quite nerve racking to unlock a door when someone is giving you looks that could kill."

Sandor, still reeling from the feel of Sansa Stark pressed into him, molding to his body like it's perfectly made twin, returned her gaze and leaned down to her ear.

"You should be used to a man's looks by now, Little Bird. But I'd be more afraid of how men were looking at you earlier than how I am now."

Before Sansa had time to react to his words, Sandor had already stepped inside.

Sansa

He doesn't look at me like the other men were? Sansa thought as she started unpacking her bags in her new room. He must not find me attractive. Sure, thinking back on it, Sansa had felt the Hound staring at her, but everyone time she would catch him, he had the same angry look in his eyes that he always wore, and while, yes she was a virgin, Sansa Stark knew that many of the other men in the room tonight had been looking at her with lusty eyes. I even saw it on Robert Baratheon's face before he realized who I was. Sick.

Sansa was actually quite good at reading people. Often times when she met people they thought she was too courteous, which was indicative of her not having anything to really add to the conversations. But Sansa knew better. It was actually more work being courteous, because you had to pay attention to what people would want to hear. And Sansa knew she was good at making people feel welcomed. Except for the guy I currently have in my home.

It was almost midnight and Sansa hadn't seen the Hound since they'd walked through the door nearly two hours ago. He threw her stuff in her room, went to the other bedroom, and slammed the door. Pity, Sansa said to herself. I would like a little company on my first night, even if it is Sandor Clegane, and he does hate me.

Sansa decided that if she wanted to talk to Sandor Clegane, she would have to anger him. He only talks to me when he's angry, and at this point, I'd take an angry Hound over no hound at all. To be honest with herself, Sansa wasn't afraid of him. She knew that he wouldn't hurt her because the Baratheons would kill him. She'd lived with older brothers before and had seen her father's anger on a few rare occasions, so she wouldn't back down from a spat. And after tonight, she knew he wasn't attracted to her…although she definitely found him appealing in a very bad boy/masculine way. What have I got to lose? He can't be any ruder to me than he already is. So Sansa, who had been quietly unpacking placed her iPod in her iHome, turned on Taylor Swift, and blared the music as loud as it would go.

Sandor

What. The. Fuck.

Nothing was working, for the past ten minutes, he'd tried putting a towel under the door, shoving his head under a pillow, and even setting up the noise maker app on his phone, but nothing was working! Why does the guest bedroom have to be across the damn hall from hers? It was already hard enough for him to stop himself from going in there, throwing her on the bed, and recreating the sensations that had gone through his body out on the porch not only two hours earlier, but no, now he had a reason to storm into his, after further review, not-so-llittle bird's room. And by God, a hound with a reason was dangerous.

Sansa

Grrrr…I've played "You Belong with Me," "Should've Said No," and "Mine," as loud as I could and he's still not coming in here. I thought guys HATED Taylor Swift? The anger was bubbling inside Sansa as "Picture to Burn" started to play. It wasn't so much that she wanted the Hound in her room, as that she wanted someone to share her first night at her first place with. Even Arya would provide better company than him. Sansa let out a long sigh and was about ready to give up when her door swung open.

When Sansa saw the look in Sandor Clegane's eyes, she was momentarily grateful that she'd opted for the king bed as it only put a bigger obstacle between them. Sandor looked at her briefly, almost shaking with ire, went to her bedside, pulled out her iPhone, and threw it into the hamper across the room by her closet door.

"Hey! That's my iPhone. You don't throw an iPhone across the room!" Sansa huffed out. Although she thought it had more to do with seeing a shirtless Sandor Clegane than the state of her phone. She'd gladly go out and buy a new phone if it meant seeing him shirtless again. He. Was. Ripped. Ugh… Sansa thought, he has a warrior's body. He reminds me of Russell Crowe in Gladiator but younger and scarier. Sandor's abdominal muscles were taut, and he had that delicious V shape that girls fawn over. I doubt Joffrey looks like that with his shirt off... His biceps are as big as my thighs.

"You don't blare your shitty teenage music at midnight as long as I am here," Sandor bellowed back at her.

Ugh…he was infuriating

"YOU don't tell me what to do as long as you're here," Sansa replied with equal fervor as she met Sandor, who was striding over toward her, in the middle of the room.

Sansa took a hard gulp as they almost collided, mere inches from each other. He won't hurt me. He will just yell and then calm down. THEN maybe we can clear the air and these next few days won't be miserable and full of tension.

"Huh," Sandor nearly grunted out. "Look, little girl, don't push me. You might have had almost every man there tonight falling all over you, but I don't take orders from spoiled little girls. Never have, never will."

Sansa hated being called a little girl. It was what Robb and Jon called her when they were talking to some of their friends that showed interest in her to make them stop, and it was what her mother and father called her right before they told her she couldn't do something. Sandor Clegane was not her brother, and he was certainly not her parent!

Sansa poked her finger in the middle of his big, scary chest and looked him straight into the eyes.

Sandor

She shouldn't be touching me was all Sandor Clegane could think about with Sansa's finger poking in his chest. Well that's not ALL he was thinking about. She shouldn't be touching me, and why the FUCK is she touching me? Sandor Clegane didn't go around barking at people for no reason. He WANTED people to be afraid of him, with the exception of an occasional stripper, but he always fucked in the dark anyway. So, why wasn't Sansa Stark afraid of him?

"I am not a little girl," Sansa hissed at Sandor. "And trust me I know...that I might have had almost every man looking at me tonight but that you would never look at me like that. God forbid Sandor Clegane looked at me with something besides contempt."

And then it clicked….. Sansa Stark wasn't afraid of him because she knew that he couldn't hurt her because of his boss and…She thinks I'm not attracted to her. The situation was too ironic for Sandor to maintain his anger, and he suddenly began to laugh.

"What's so funny," Sansa said removing her finger from his chest and placing both of her now balled fists onto her side, though she did noticeably relax.

"That's it, Little Bird?" he could hardly get out between his laughs. "You think I'm NOT attracted to you?"

"Well..uhh…I guess I haven't really thought about it."

"Ha," Sandor replied. "You obviously have are you wouldn't be spouting off instances when you THINK I've proven I'm not."

At this point Sandor had stopped laughing and was slowly stalking toward Sansa.

"I mean…ugh…I've just noticed that you don't look at me like other boys do," Sansa said matching Sandor's steps forward with her backwards steps.

"Good that you've noticed," Sandor replied. "And I'm not going to start."

"You're not going to start looking at me?" Sansa peeped as she neared her closet door.

"Oh no, I'm going to start looking at you," Sandor managed to get out as he heard Sansa's back press up against the wood.

"I don't understand."

"Ha," Sandor bellowed. "Of course you don't understand…that's the most honest thing you've said tonight."

Sansa, confused by the last part of the statement, just looked at Sandor Clegane as she realized she had nowhere to go.

"But let me spell it out for you. I'm not going to look at you 'like other boys do,' because I'm not, in case you haven't noticed…a boy." At this statement Sandor noticed Sansa's eyes get round and her breathing start to increase, but her shock didn't stop him from continuing. "I'm a man. And you need to remember that these next four nights. You need to remember that as you prance around in your little shorts. Remember it as you blare you're music, knowing that I'm just across the hall giving me a reason to come to your room. And remember it when you start poking your finger in my chest a mere few feet from your bed."

"I…I…didn't," was all Sansa could get out as she stared deep into the Hounds eyes, licking her lips.

"Yes, you did," Sandor said placing a hand on either side of Sansa's head and leaning in towards her, chests slightly touching. You may have the Baratheons and the rest of New Orleans fooled into thinking you're a stupid Little Bird, and you may even act like it sometimes, but I've done my research. I know you're here on a full ride."

"Well then," Sansa said regaining some of her composure. "If you've done your research, then you know I'm not the type of woman to lure men into their bedroom."

"Ha," Sandor scoffed. "You aren't the type of woman to lure a man in here and fuck him, Little Bird. I know that, but you did none the less. And next time, you do," Sandor paused, leaning down to her ear for the second time tonight, lowering his voice to a raspy whisper, "I won't be leaving. I'm not the type of dog to walk out on a tasty looking bone. Do you understand?"

Sansa gulped and nodded in response.

"Good," Sandor announced before turning around and walking out of the room.

Sansa

It felt like forever before Sansa could move herself away from he closet door and into her bed. He is attracted to me, she thought as the nuzzled into her pillow. And he is a man. Sansa wasn't quite sure what to do with the situation. She knew she should probably stay away from him, there was no doubt he was dangerous. But she also knew that she couldn't stay away from him-he was Joff's bodyguard. Well he's mine until Sunday.

What Sansa also knew was that her body had never reacted like that to someones touch before. As Sandor's chest barely touched hers during the exchange, she felt a shock go through her body and heat in her core. Sansa had never felt that electricity, not with Theon when he had first kissed her at 15. And not with Joffrey as they danced tonight. The ache that had bloomed below her waist made her want to wrap her legs around Sandor and end the tension all together. But she couldn't. She'd heard stories from Jeyne (her best friend from home), and she'd thought about it enough, after all she was 18, but Sansa Stark, Nashville's princess couldn't be that forward with a man. And to be honest with herself, she wouldn't know what to do from there if it ever got to that point.

But, Sansa whispered to herself as sleep started to claim her, I wouldn't mind learning from Sandor.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sandor**

_"_ Thank God she's asleep," Sandor mumbled to himself as he passed the Little Bird's closed door. It had taken every shred of his decency not to throw her on the bed and take her last night and left him with none to spare this morning.

As Sandor started making his way down the stairs, it became more and more apparent to him that last night must have been a dream.  _She almost seemed willing to let a dog touch her_. But Sandor was awoken from his waking stupor to find that his easy day of avoiding a sleeping Sansa Stark had been cut short.

He stopped in the kitchen doorway to admire her for a minute before making his presence known. Years of sneaking around doing Lannister-Baratheon bidding had made the giant man a mere background noise to most people. Sansa Stark was no different.

She had apparently been up for a while and was dressed in light purple shorts that accented her lean, long legs and a white tank top. Her golden gladiator sandals exposed her perfect feet, and the tank and shorts did wonder for her figure. As she reached into the fridge, her long auburn hair, still damp from a shower— _She must have been up early, it's only 8:30 a.m.—_ fell like a blanket onto her back, stopping below her shoulder blades.

While Sansa, who had retrieved a gallon of orange juice, shut the door to the fridge, Sandor decided to make his presence known.

"What are you doing up," he said sternly, as the shocked girl turned to meet his stare. "Too afraid that I was going to make good on my offer to sleep, Little Bird?" Sandor said slightly smiling before she could reply.

"No," she responded. "Although, I am sure that's what you would like for me to think. I am used to getting up early. Father has never been one for sleeping in, and besides…." Sansa continued flashing Sandor a wicked smile. "…we've got a long day ahead of us."

"We?"

"Yes,  _we_ , Sandor, " was Sansa's only reply as she proceeded to set down the orange juice and hand him an omelet and hashbrowns. "Eat up."

Sandor was in shock. He'd taken orders from a lot of people, but never before had he from an eighteen year-old-girl.

"This isn't so bad," he thought aloud.

Sansa, thinking he was talking about her cooking, simply smiled.

**Sansa**

_Today has almost been pleasant_ , Sansa Stark mused to herself as they drove through mid-city. Sandor had only put up a little fight about taking her around town. They had already been to the Lakeside Mall in Metairie, Target, Rouses and a few boutiques on Magazine St. While Sansa had bought quite a bit of clothing, which Sandor made sure to huff at every time she paid, she had also gotten more groceries and furnishings for her home.

In fact the only thing strange about the day was the fact that she hadn't heard from Joffrey. Sansa replayed the events of last night over in her head and thought that Joffrey was more than pleased with her at the gala.  _At least until it was time to go home_. Something about Joffrey's behavior had really rattled Sansa.  _How could one person go from happy to livid so fast?_ Sansa had no idea. What she did know was that she was  _not happy_  that Joffrey didn't even have the decency to call her today.  _I wonder if this is how it will always be between us, me getting punished for something I didn't even know I did_. But Sansa was snapped out of her thoughts as the Bronco abruptly pulled over and stopped.

"Why are we at an Asian gym?" Sansa asked, as she stared at the building boasting an "Asian Gym" sign on Canal St.

"Because I live here."

"You live at an Asian gym?"

"No, stupid," spat Sandor. "I live above it," he exclaimed as he slammed his door shut. "Now are you coming or gonna wait in the car?"

Sansa, not one to be out done, slammed the door with equal fervor and proceeded to follow.

As she neared the building, Sansa noticed, that had it not been for the distracting sign on the bottom half, the old white house with wrought-iron finishing would have been nice. It had an old world flare to it, like most New Orleans' homes, and looked as if the building itself could tell you a million stories if it had a mouth.

The inside was on different andmuch cleaner than Sansa had anticipated.  _At least living with a dirty giant is one thing I don't have to worry about for the next few day_. Sandor's second-story apartment was accessed by a side staircase and was a large one bedroom with a bathroom, kitchen, den, and spacious front porch. The walls were all white and lined with different posters and sports memorabilia. While Sandor gathered his clothes,  _I guess he couldn't wear his suit until Sunday_ , Sansa was drawn to two hanging jerseys, one was purple and gold, the other was black and gold, and they both had  _Clegane_  embroidered in the back.

"You played football?" Sansa nearly screamed. Although why she was shocked, she couldn't say.  _He is a massive man_.

"Yeah."

"Where?"

Sansa heard an irritated huff come towards her. Sandor, who had finished packing, motioned for her to leave the apartment, all the while not answering her question. Sansa, who could know sense his mood a little better, didn't push the topic—although she desperately wanted to.

The pair didn't speak on the ride back to Sansa's. Nor did they speak emptying the car. Nor did they speak putting up the groceries. Nor did they speak as their Chinese food arrived.

Sansa. Had. Had. Enough.

"Where did you play," she said, staring at the man on the opposite end of the couch who was eating his rice like there was no tomorrow.  _He's surprisingly good with chop sticks_.

"What does it matter to you?" Sandor barked back.

"It doesn't," Sansa said letting out an exasperated pause. Between not hearing from Joffrey, the stress of moving, and the constant angst rolling of her temporary roommate, Sansa was about to explode. "I just thought that since you're sleeping at my place, we could be civil."

Something about this statement must have amused the Hounds as he suddenly started chuckling.

"So now we're sleeping together, Little Bird?" Sandor said in between laughs.

"That's not what I said, and certainly not what I meant….Just answer the question." Sansa gave him her best pleading look and watched as the onion that was Sandor Clegane internally battled over whether or not to reveal a layer. After what seems like hours of silence, he answered.

"LSU then the Saints."

 _Wow. He must have been really good_.

"That's impressive, Sandor! I didn't know that you loved football."  _In fact, I don't know anything about you._.

"I don't  _love_ football, Sansa" Sandor, now seeming to be the one exasperated sighed as he took his dishes to the sink, with Sansa in tow.

"Well, you must have at least liked it to play it for so long," Sansa stated.  _I really shouldn't ask this next question, but I am she, thought_ , when Sandor didn't respond. "Why aren't you still playing?"

Sansa noticed as the Hound's muscles tense. He still had his back to her which terrified her even more as he paused before turning around and giving her the angriest look Sansa had ever been on the receiving end of. Once more Sansa had a terrifying thrill go up her spine as Sandor Clegane slowly stalked toward her, stopping inches from her face. When he was close enough to Sansa that she could smell his musky, masculine scent, and feel the heat rolling off of his body, he pinned her to the kitchen island placing one hand on the counter and the other grabbing her face.

"Look at me, Sansa."

She complied, again mesmerized by the contrast in the sides of his face, and his broody grey eyes. In that moment Sansa didn't know if she wanted to kiss him or scream. Sandor's face mimicked her own desires, knowing that being this close to him was both dangerous and beautiful.

"When you're a kid and you have a face like mine," Sandor continued. "You happily shove your head in anything that will hide your scars. Luckily for me, I happened to be good at wearing a helmet, and I got to where it up until I was 23. Then after my first season, during spring training, I dislocated my knee cap from my knee and ripped all of the tendons and ligaments."

Sansa tried to peer down at Sandor's knees upon hearing this admonition, but couldn't take her eyes off of his.

"Now, Little Bird," he said, softening his grip on her face. "Let me tell you something about football, it's hard to be a lineman without properly functioning knees. By the time I had had a few surgeries, just to be told I might eventually need more, I was let go."

The disappointment in Sandor's eyes was evident, as she stammered out, "I'm sorry."

By this time Sandor had taken a step back from Sansa to take a much needed breath.

"So that's when you started working for the Baratheon's?" she pressed on.

"That's when I started working with the Baratheon's, Little Bird."

The rest of the night took on a somber tone, as the two sat and watched TV, neither of them really focusing on what was on. By 11 p.m. Sansa decided it was time to head up to bed and noticed that Sandor followed her. Something had been eating with her after their conversation, and as Sandor turned to go in his room across the hall, Sansa just had to ask.

"Sandor, why keep the jersey's out for your friends and family to see if they only remind you of things you don't want to talk about?"

Sansa held her breath, as the the Hound clutched the door frame. She continued to hold her breath as he once again turned towards her.

"I would never let  _my family_  into my apartment, as it is  _my family's_ fault that I had to hide my face in a fucking helmet in the first place," Sandor replied glowing with anger.

Sansa was struck by the urge to run in her room, lock the door, and not come back until Sunday, when Jory came. But she didn't.

"As far as friends," Sandor continued, in a slightly more controlled, less angry fashion. "People who do what I do, don't have any." Sandor Clegane took this moment to lock eyes with Sansa Stark. "And besides, Little Bird," he said, his anger now being replaced with something Sansa couldn't quite identify, "you're the only person who knows where I live."

The shock on Sansa's face must have been clear enough to cause Sandor to go in his room and shut the door.

Unfortunately for Sansa, shock when it came to Sandor Clegane was an all too familiar feeling. For the second night in a row, it took Sansa quite some time to wind down before bed. She sighed under her comforter, stretching her muscles before sleep, and wondering.  _Am I ever going to know where I stand with Sandor?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Sandor**

Sandor was nearing the edge of happiness, as he cranked Stranger. And oddly enough, it did and didn't have anything to do with the beautiful girl sitting next to him. Sure, he was happy to look at Sansa Stark, but having her in such close proximity to him was almost painful.  _She's too beautiful…thank God I only have two more days of this torture_  . Sandor had to stop himself earlier in the day from running into her room after she told him that she was going to take a shower and get ready for dinner at the Baratheon's.  _It's one thing to know that Sansa Stark is sleeping across the hall from you, it's another thing to know that she's naked, bathing her most delicate parts_.

Sandor had had to  _take care_  of himself more times than he cared to tell in the two days he'd shared quarters with Sansa.  _But tonight_ , he thought as he pulled up to the Baratheon's Uptown mansion,  _I am going to be around people…people I don't like, but people besides Sansa Stark_. He really was losing his grip when he was happy to see a Lannister-Baratheon.

**Sansa**

It had taken Sansa almost two hours to get ready, as she wanted every curl to be in perfect place for dinner with Joff and his family. He had  _finally_ texted her around 1 a.m. this morning. Of course it had just been a drunken "hey beautiful," and she had been asleep, but she was happy about it none the less. He had even texted her this afternoon to tell her that he was looking forward to seeing her tonight and wanted to take her out on the town after dinner.  _I guess all is forgiven—whatever I did_ , Sansa thought as she stepped out of Sandor's Bronco, smoothing out her dress.

Sansa was wearing a Theysken's Theory, blue floral, sundress that showed off her radiant skin and flawless back. She had chosen a pair of Steve Madden crocheted wedges and the pearl necklace and earring she had received from Robb for graduation. At a glance, Sansa was more than ready to meet the lot of Lannisters and Baratheons waiting for her inside. However, inside, Sansa was as nervous as she'd ever been.  _Thank God Sandor is with me_ , she said to her nerves. Since she had arrived in New Orleans, she had found his presence reassuring. Sansa knew that while he was quick to correct her, he would never hurt her.  _His bark is definitely worse than his bite._ The auburn-haired beauty knew that Sandor would protect her, and she had a feeling that she would need protecting in the months to come.

**Sandor**

"Ready, Little Bird?" Sandor asked, as he typed in the code to get in the front gate.

"Ready, as I'll ever be," she smiled at him as the gate swung open, and she headed for the door. "Do I look, ready?"

Sandor almost stopped in his tracks at this question. Two days of him ogling her every time she had her back turn, and a few times when she didn't, and Sansa Stark still had her modest demeanor intact. He caught up to her, right after she knocked on the door. And barely had time to whisper, "You're beautiful, Sansa," before they were greeted with two blue eyes and a star-studded smile.

Sandor hated the man standing across the threshold:  _Jaime Lannister_.

Sandor, who prided himself on his heterosexuality, could even admit that Jaime Lannister was an attractive man. He cleared six feet, had golden-boy blonde hair, classic features, and was just about perfect by anyone's accounts. Jaime was also athletic, smart, and cunning, having been quarterback at Harvard, and risen to VP at Lannister Global, a Fortune 500 trading co. out of Atlanta.

"My, my, my, Sandor," Lannister cooed in the direction of Sansa, who was all but drooling at him. "No wonder Robert and Cersei have you guarding this girl, she'll have every man in Orleans parish running after her before the summer is over. Almost makes me jealous of my nephew."

"Thank you, Mr. Lannister," Sansa replied.  _Little Bird's been doing her homework_

"You're welcome, come in," Jaime Lannister said tucking Sansa's arm into his, leaving Sandor outside fuming. He didn't know exactly what it was, but the thought of the sycophant,  _Jaime Lannister_ , the middle-aged perv, touching  _his Little Bird_ , almost had him angry enough to swing.  _Sansa may have memorized the names, but she didn't know the stories behind them if she'd let him touch her_ , he mused.  _The bastard is fucking his sister._  And as he stepped over the threshold, Sandor knew that his earlier happiness was gone.

 _This shit just keeps getting better and better_ , he almost cursed walking into the living room. Every liar in the South was sitting around sharpening their claws, as the Little Bird sat in the midst of them smiling the whole time.

Robert and Cersei, the drunken man-whore and the whore, would be the least of Sansa's worries tonight. Problem number one stood only a little over four feet and went by the name of Tyrion Lannister, most often called the Imp. Tyrion resided in New Orleans, and like his nephew, had a thing for whores.  _Although he doesn't beat them_. And while Sandor hated the Imp because of his uncannily knack to get the last word in and be right, he had to admit that he was a clever man. Tyrion had graduated summa cum laude from Oxford University and was a business guru, like his father.

Next to Tyrion, sat Renly Baratheon, Robert's much younger brother, who had just turned 25, and his boyfriend, Loras Tyrell. Renly and Loras had officially come out together after college graduation, when they had toured Europe for a year. This grated on Robert's last nerve, but Loras Tyrell was a member of Miami's Tyrell family, and Robert would not dare mess with the trading giants. Besides, you couldn't very well be the mayor of New Orleans and publicly have something against gays. It just wasn't PC.

Having appraised the scum of the room, Sandor heard Sansa giggle, and turned to see public enemy number one, recanting some tale. Joffrey Baratheon was really getting on Sandor's last nerve. Even though he'd been watching the boy for seven years, starting when he was just an eager, little teenager, Sandor had no love for the kid. Like his uncle, Joffrey had everything to easy—looks,girls, money—and unlike his uncle, he did nothing with it.

Sandor's indifference towards Joff had been slowly gravitating toward hatred since the arrival of Sansa Stark. The way Joff acted toward her at the end of the gala was unforgiveable.  _The little prick doesn't even have the decency to call her_ , which Sandor just couldn't understand.  _If I had the little bird, I wouldn't be wasting my time in strip clubs_ , which again, was exactly what Joffrey had been doing. A

And this is where Sandor's hatred had really started to grow. As he was sleeping soundly, dreaming of what  _he could be doing_  to Sansa Stark, his phone had gone off at 2:30 a.m. this morning. It was Meryn, who had indulged in some of Joffrey's coke, and couldn't get himself and the little shit home. Sandor had to go down to the quarter and get the two idiots, deposit them at Joffrey's Warehouse Dist. Penthouse, and sneak into Sansa's as dawn approached. Sandor, who hadn't spoken to anyone in the room and was now openly staring at Sansa and Joff with a look of sheer hatred, was interrupted by the maid's announcement that dinner was ready.

**Tyrion**

_She's a beautiful creature, sweet and innocent_ , thought Tyrion as he gulped down his third glass of pinot noir. He hated family gatherings. It was well known that Tyrion bore no love for his sister, brother-in-law, and least of all, nephew, but Jaime had asked him to come, and Tyrion did love his brother, and as luck would have it, he did get to sit across the beautiful Sansa Stark at dinner. It would have almost made the madness pleasant had he not been sitting right by the Hound.

 _Interesting_ , he mused. Sandor  _never_  opts to dine with us. But there he was. Tyrion knew that the Stark girl had to be the reason for his presence. To say he was shocked when Cersei told him that Sandor was staying with the Stark girl was an understatement.

_"Have you gone mad," Tyrion asked, gulping down his first glass of wine, waiting on the guests to arrive._

_"No," replied Cersei, coolly lounging in her plush throne_.

_"Why don't you just tell Ned Stark you hate him and his family?" Spat Tyrion, not even attempting to hide the sarcasm and contempt evident in his voice._

_"Because, he's Robert's best friend," Cersei simply stated as if she was telling him the name of the family dog. "And besides, Sandor is the most loyal and competent of all our men. He won't let any harm to come to the girl, and more importantly, he wanted let Joffrey do anything to her while Ned is alive."_

_"Ahh, so it's true then, Ned Stark is dying?"_

_"Yes, but not soon enough for my liking. Pity, though for the girl, she really is a lovely thing."_

And it was quite a pity for Sansa Stark. Cersei, who rarely complimented anything besides her own reflection, was right about Sansa's beauty. But her beauty wouldn't save her from the lions, once her father died. Ned Stark was more than a name, he was his company, and without him, the Lannister's felt sure that the Stark Empire would slowly crumble. And Lannister's loved to watch things crumble.

"Sansa," Tyrion quipped. "What are you going to be studying this fall?"

"English Literature, sir."

"Now, call me Tyrion," he smiled, which Sansa acknowldedged with a smile, before launching into a full-blown conversation discussing the British Romantic Period.

**Sandor**

Sandor didn't know what was worse: Sansa talking to the Imp or talking to Joff. She had talked to the Imp all through dinner and was conversing with him outside on the patio. The only perk about the situation was that it seemed to equally annoy Joff. Joff couldn't carry on a conversation about literature to save his life.  _Hell, Robert's had two build two buildings on campus just to keep him enrolled_. He could see Joffrey's anger as he desperately tried to grab Sansa's attention. Finally, Sandor finally saw Joffrey snap, go get Sansa, dismiss everyone, and drag her out the door.

Sandor, who had already been informed that Joff wanted t take Sansa to Frenchman Street took this as his cue to go get Joff's black Tahoe that he never drove.

"Where are we going?" Sansa asked as the passed the quarter.

Joffrey, who was in the back seat with his arm around Sansa, Meryn was in the front with Sandor, smiled, "Frenchman Street. Its where all of the cool cats go to party."

"Oh," was Sansa only reply as they pulled on to a dark street with 20 somethings running about.

Sandor  _hated_  this place. This is where Joffrey would go to lure some unsuspecting non-prostitute into being his sex slave for the night. Sansa didn't need to be here.

As they walked into one of the bars aligning the street, Joffrey quickly went to the bar to get a round of drinks for himself and Sansa, while Sandor and Meryn ushered the Little Bird to an open table in the back.

Sandor watched on as Sansa took in the scenery. DBA was a cozy bar, and much to Sandor's relief, not half as wild as many of the bars on Frenchman. But Sansa still looked out of place. Frenchman street was a place usually reserved for yuppies, druggies, and dreadlocks—not Sansa Stark.

**Sansa**

_What is wrong with Sandor?_  Sansa was beginning to sense the man's unease as the night progressed. They had already been at DBA for a few hours, and it was nearing 1 a.m. She had had three beers, not wanting to seem a wildling in Joff's presence, and was already feeling the effects of the liquid.

However, she was still very much aware of Sandor. He had been like a shadow to her for the past few days and thought that they were past the hours of brooding and not talking. Sansa noticed that while she deepened in thought on the matter, Joffrey was deepening his hold on her leg and sliding further into her thigh.

"If you'll excuse me," Sansa said blushing, "I have to go to the restroom."

Sansa got up and made her to the back of the bar. She had already been to the restroom once and was not pleased with the cleanliness level. Shutting the stall door, she knew this would be a quick trip. As she was finishing up her business, she heard the door open and three steps of footsteps.

"Who is that girl  _he's_  with?" Said an utterly, haughty, yet feminine voice.

"I don't know, but she looks young…and he's acting like she's a virgin, the way he's sitting by her," said another.

Sansa began to feel sorry for both the boy and girl in question as their relationship was obviously being scrutinized by the jealous girls.

"Girls," answered a third, more commanding voice. "Lets face it, it's Joff Baratheon we're talking about. If he hasn't screwed her yet, he'll screw her tonight. He's a kinky fuck,  _we all know_. And besides, he's probably too  _high_  to even know who is beside him."

"Well, I don't like it," said the first voice.

"He's not yours to like,  _Ros_ ," replied the second, as they started to shuffle out.

Before they left, Sansa heard the third girl chuckle, "Well, Ros, maybe she is a virgin. And if she wants to stay that way, you might be his tonight after all."

Sansa couldn't move from the stall, as realization swept over her—the Snow Prince, the temper—it was all making sense.  _What have I gotten myself into?_

**Sandor**

It had been a pleasant enough night until Sandor recognized three familiar tramps walking into the bar—Ros, Jeyne, and Shae—aka the Lannister/Baratheon groupies. It was rumored that the latter had even had a piece of the Imp, but Sandor could have cared less. The only thing he cared about as he saw the trio shoot furtive glances at Joff and Sansa was his Little Bird.

Joff, much to Sandor's disbelief was acting semi normal, meaning he didn't appear high or sloshed, and was paying attention to Sansa.  _Robert must have threatened him well at dinner_. And as far as he could tell, Joff hadn't even shot a glance at the trio.

As Sansa excused herself to go to the restroom, Sandor almost thought he was in for a peaceful night, until he saw the trio follow her.  _This is not going to be good_. Meryn seemed to also notice the activity as a smile crept upon his face. Joff, however, took this as his opportunity to go to the men's room as well, his favorite place to do a line.  _So much for a peaceful night_.

Five minutes went by before the trio came out. Fifteen minutes went by before Joff returned. Thirty minutes went by, and there was still no Sansa.

Before he could even register what he was doing, Sansa was pushing some girl out of the way and himself into the restroom.

Sansa Stark was staring, blotchy-eyed into the mirror, adjusting her make-up. This sight scared the hell out of Sansa.  _Had she been doing lines with Joff? Had he already corrupted his Little Bird?_

Sandor seized Sansa by both of her elbow and drug her into his chest.

"W-What are you doing?"

"W-what am I doing," he spat. "What are you doing, living in the bloody bathroom? Have you been….crying?"

"No…" she replied, but Sandor saw there was no conviction in her Tully blue eyes as she looked at him. He sighed with relief at knowing she was still his sweet, innocent Little Bird, but knew that the trio must have said something to upset her.

"I just want…I just want to go home. Take me home."

**Sansa**

Joff was not please when she, after finally having composed herself, shooed Sandor out of the restroom, and fixed her make-up, called it a night. She, who still wished to live in a fairy tale thought for a second that Joff would oblige and come with her, but once again was met by his eyes full of contempt as he told Sandor to take her home, without even a kiss goodnight.

God must have sensed her mood, because it started to pour as soon as she and Sandor stepped out of DBA. And the ride home was just as dreary. Sandor asked her once what was wrong, but she couldn't even reply. What was she supposed to say?

_Oh, nothing, besides the fact that the guy I'm supposed to marry in a few years is a man-whore with a drug problem, who I moved for? Oh, and I gave up scholarships to every Ivy League school to do so, not to mention a recording contract? Oh, and by the way…my father is dying?_

It was the first time she had admitted her father's state to herself, although Arya had told him daily about his declining health. She just thought that if everything worked out with Joffrey, and she was a good girl that maybe, just maybe, Ned Stark would live. But Sansa now knew that wishes and reality were enemies, as tears started to silently fall down her face.

The car, as well as the ride, had been dark, and she had somehow managed again, to compose herself before running into her townhouse. She quickly grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and ran upstairs, not even bothering to lock up.

She got ready for bed and laid there for what felt like hours, before making her way to Sandor's room. It was 2:15 a.m., and she knew he might be asleep, but she had to know. She had to know what she…no…what her family had gotten her into and just how deep she was in it. And it was with that resolve that she lightly knocked on the door across the hall.

 _Tap. Tap. "_ Sandor?"

No answer.

"Sandor?"

No answer.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, she pushed the door open.

Much to Sansa's surprise and delight, Sandor's body could be made out by the specks of light streaming in through his window. He was lying on top of the bed covered in a light afghan, and was shirtless. Although she couldn't see what was covering his bottom half, she hoped it was boxers, as a nude conversation would not go well.

"Sandor," she whispered out, creeping closer. She was almost to the bed and he hadn't stirred.

Sansa put her right knee on the bed and lightly tapped him on the shoulder. Still no movement. She know had both knees on the bed and was lightly shaking his left shoulder. Still nothing.  _God, he sleeps like the dead_ , she thought as she looked upon him.  _If not for half of his face he'd be perfect_.

And in that moment she knew that she didn't want to wake him. She had come seeking comfort in his words, but now realized that it was just his presence that comforted her. Sansa decided to let him continue sleeping peacefully, as she pulled up the afghan— _boxers, thank God—_ and crawled in next to him. She had just enough time to realize that she was thankfully wearing a purple, silk tank with matching boy shorts instead of her usually nightie before sleep claimed her.

**Sandor**

Vivid dreams were second nature to Sandor since he had been living with Sansa Stark, but this one was by far the best. It started out the same way, he awoke to see that it was still dark outside and the bedside digital read around 4 a.m. His left arm was curled under a mop of red hair and a creamy knee was lightly laying over his growing bulge. The first night Sandor had had this dream, he was too scared to move, even in his sleep. By now he had even built up the courage to kiss the sleeping Sansa Stark. Knowing that he would wake up before anything fun happened, which he always did, Sandor decided to get down to business.

Moving his right hand and turning his body slightly toward Sansa, not wanting to move the delicious contact that her knee was giving him, Sandor dipped his hand below her tank.  _Weird,_ he thought for a brief moment _, she is usually wearing the nightie I saw her in that night_. Sandor didn't allow this alteration to stop him as his hand made its way toward her perfect breasts taking her nipple inbetween his thumb and pointer finger.

Dream Sansa let out a light moan before turning more into Sandor allowing him space to nuzzle her neck.  _Now for my favorite part_ , Sandor thought as he claimed her lips. Even in a dream, he couldn't believe there softness, and for the first time, he felt dream Sansa kissing him back. At first it was slow as he tentatively sucked on her bottom lip, before taking advantage of her little moans, and outlining said lip with his tongue. But then, he felt her own tongue touch his, and he knew that he only had few minutes at most before the dream was over.

Trying to prolong his fantasy, Sandor quicly propped himself up onto his left elbow, and again crashed his lips on to dream Sansa's. Dream Sansa took this as an opportunity to lace her arms around Sandor's neck and deepen the kiss.  _The dreams must be getting more vivid_ , because Sansa suddenly put her left knee up on the bed allowing Sandor to settle right above her core.

 _Shit_. He felt Sansa's knee leave his bulge and was saddened by the loss of heat. Then Sandor did something that he would never to real Sansa, but since this was dream Sansa, he felt safe in his actions. He lowered his manhood down to her core, as he deepened the kiss.

 _I hope I never wake up and die in this dream_ , but Sandor knew his time was coming to an end, and he would be alone finishing this dream with his hand before too long. But that didn't stop him. He decided to test new waters, as dream Sansa licked and sucked his lips, both burned and smooth sides. She almost seemed to possess him, which is what he wanted during his waking hours. As he rocked himself forward against her core, eliciting and deep moan from dream Sansa, he took the opportunity to release her hair with his right hand and begin the trail down her body.

Still propped up on his left elbow, Sandor slowly traced his way down her collarbone. He stopped above the silk fabric hiding her nipples long enough to circle them, leaving dream Sansa practically thrashing below him. He quickly dipped his hand under her tank, and began kneading her breast, as he picked up his rocking pace. After a minute or so of her moans, he knew that dream Sansa was close, and more than anything, he wanted dream Sansa to call out his name as she came, for what he was assuming would be the first time.  _All it will take is a few flicks of the thumb and pumps with my fingers, then she'll be ready for me_ , Sandor said to himself as his finger greedily trailed down below her belly button.

He knew he was teasing her as he would hook her shots and skim his hooked finger across her body, but he couldn't help it. The fact that Sansa Stark was moaning in anticipation for him was just too much, even if it was just a dream.  _She shaves_ , he mentally noted, as his middle and forefinger dipped lower toward her core. Parting the folds with his two finger, he began to rub light circles in her clit, alternating in pressure. Dream Sansa must have loved this because she was now biting at his lips and breathing very heavily.  _She's almost there_. Sandor, after a few more strokes was ready to end her misery.

Swapping the placement of his two finger with his thumb, Sandor started to lightly circle her opening with his pointer fingers. He was teasing her by circling then, sliding his finger into her covering his nail, not yet ready to feel her fully. Sandor had been doing this for maybe a minute before Sansa started rocking her hips toward him.

 _I can't take this anymore_. Sandor was certain now that the dream was about to end, and he had to do something, so he decided to break his cardinal rule and talk to dream Sansa, although he knew she never replied.

He slowed his fingers, fully intending to make her come after he got the words out, and he looked into her deep Tully blue eyes, and whispered what he'd been wanting to say to real Sansa since he met her.

"I want you, Sansa."

Dream Sansa just looked at him and smiled, a smile that was real in a dream but would never happen in life, and as he smiled back, about to satiate her needs and plunge a finger into her, something happened.

"I want you too, Sandor."

Sandor froze. If there was one thing that had been consistent In his dreams it had been Sansa's inability to talk. He could disregard the clothing, the moans, and the degree to which they had made it, but he couldn't disregard her words. And at that moment, as he pushed himself off of her onto his knees, exposing his rock hard erection, he knew that this wasn't a dream.

"Sansa?"


	7. I digress

Oh my God. My 5 month old son has had the stomach virus, left ear infection, and know a right ear infection in 9 days. I will update as soon as I can think. I'm from Mississippi, I'll ask for prayers and good vibes please.


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